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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029987">While Gunmen Shot Their Glocks By Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91'>soufflegirl91</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bond and Q just can't catch a break, First Date, Fluff and Humour, M/M, peak potato Bond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:14:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Q finally manage to go on their first date. And it was all going so well...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>MI6 Cafe Collections, Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>While Gunmen Shot Their Glocks By Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For week 2 of the MI6 Cafe Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2020 (or some combination of those words). Despite the title, this fic has nothing at all to do with Christmas or Christmas carols, I'm just sticking with my title theme. </p>
<p>I chose prompt A: “suddenly a few feet away, the entire plate glass window shivered into confetti” (apparently this is a quote from Casino Royale but I only half-listened to the audiobook, so I'm trusting the experts on that one).</p>
<p>Thanks as ever to Christinefromsherwood for being a wonderful beta, fic wrangler and kicker up the arse when I was complaining that this fic would never be finished. I would never publish anything without you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>It had all been going so well.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the first thing that ran through James’s mind when the shooting started. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, after weeks of having to reschedule due to urgent missions taking James to far flung places, or keeping Q on the comms at all hours, they had made it to their first date. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James, palms sweating beneath his driving gloves, had arrived at Q’s flat a respectable five minutes before their agreed time. He didn’t even know why he was so nervous - they had been growing closer for the better part of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>year</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this wasn’t his usual case of falling in too deep too quickly. But maybe that </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> why he was nervous. There was more to fuck up, this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Q answered the door - </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh good, you’re early, too! I just fed the cats. If I sneak out now, they won’t even notice.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and just like that, the tension in James’s shoulders disappeared. They weren’t going to fuck this up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, it had been as easy as breathing. Q had picked the bar for pre-dinner drinks - some obnoxiously hipster little place in Soho that James had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d hate - something he’d been even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure of when Q ordered their drinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>on his phone</span>
  </em>
  <span> - but turned out to do the best martini he’d ever had. He could happily have spent the whole evening in that bar, drinking martinis and trading non-classified stories with Q, but dinner reservations waited for no man, not even Her Majesty’s finest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had just re-donned their jackets when suddenly a few feet away, the entire plate glass window shivered into confetti, taking the light with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it had all been going so well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could pull out his Walther, James went from laughing with Q to staring at the ceiling with the wind knocked out of him, a heavy weight pressing him down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took stock of his surroundings - winded, but no pain to suggest he’d been hit. Nothing that would have taken him down without even noticing the impact. Which meant-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Q? Q!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panic rose in his throat. If </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t been hit, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> had knocked him down. Had </span>
  <em>
    <span>Q</span>
  </em>
  <span>-? People were screaming, but none of the screams sounded pained. James couldn’t hear Q in the din. Why wasn’t he- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Q?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhh!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand reached down and slapped over his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>James blinked, taking in the ceiling tiles and Q’s mop of hair, which he could now make out as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light. He couldn’t see much more than that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This… was not how it usually went. Usually </span>
  <em>
    <span>James</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one with his gun at the ready while everyone around him panicked. And now he couldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>move,</span>
  </em>
  <span> because that would give them away. He had to just… lie here, with Q’s fingers brushing his lips, wondering when the hell he’d lost the ability to spot an approaching attacker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the screams died down into terrified whimpers, James felt Q shift position. Then the hand over his mouth was gone and he could hear heavy footsteps moving towards them, getting closer... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a brief glint of light off a gun barrel, a quiet click, then - </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud - </span>
  </em>
  <span>their attacker hit the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Q was moving. James’s chest felt suddenly cold without a skinny boffin sitting on it; he scrambled to raise himself on his elbows. (Was that the only one? Were there more?) He inched his hand towards his Walther, ready to draw if Q needed backup. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weapon out of sight but still at the ready, Q crept over to the fallen figure. James watched as Q picked up the fallen gun and plucked a small dart out of their assailant’s chest before checking his breathing. Obviously satisfied with what he found, Q stood up and holstered his weapon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he didn’t know Q so well, James would never have noticed the deep intake of breath he took before pasting a friendly smile on his face and turning to the anxious customers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We are law enforcement officers.” Q flashed something in his wallet that James dearly hoped </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> his real MI6 ID badge. He continued, in his most serious Quartermaster Voice: “The police are on their way. Please stay in your seats until they arrive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if on cue, blue lights flashed in the dark street as a horde of police cars pulled up outside the broken window. Armed officers stormed into the bar, surrounding the unconscious man. To Bond’s surprise, they were followed by Bill Tanner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christ, he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> missed a trick, hadn’t he? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still reeling from the events of the last five minutes, James pulled himself to his feet. He winced as he put pressure on his right knee. He was getting too old for this shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ok?” Q approached, looking concerned. Tanner gave him a little wave from where he was talking with the police officers. “You weren’t hit, were you? He was aiming our way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing injured but my pride,” James muttered. “I didn’t even clock him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> facing away from the window.” Q reached up and brushed something off James’s shoulder. “Last I checked, you didn’t have eyes in the back of your head.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Q.” James shrugged off Q’s touch, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “I should have been on the lookout for potential threats. If something had happened- If you had been-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stand </span>
  <em>
    <span>down,</span>
  </em>
  <span> 007.” Q gently grabbed James’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his face and tangling their fingers together. “Even double-ohs are allowed to take time off, occasionally. You’re allowed to relax on home soil.” Q’s fingers gripped his tightly, as if that gesture alone could calm him. James didn’t know if he was pleased or annoyed that it actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>worked.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I handled it. I noticed him following us and alerted HQ when I ordered the drinks. Besides, he had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Glock.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wasn't a real threat. Trust your Quartermaster to have your back, James.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James huffed out a laugh. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust Q. Had trusted Q since the day they met. Q was one of the most competent people James had ever met, he’d proved that a hundred times over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there was anyone who could say he had his back and have James truly believe it, it was Q.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tugged on Q’s hand, pulling him into a hug and felt himself start to breathe easier once Q was in his arms with his unruly hair brushing his nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, if we run, we might just make those dinner reservations.” Q’s words, muffled in James’s neck, sounded deceptively casual, but the way Q’s hands were clinging to the back of his jacket belied their levity. James hugged him tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about we just order a takeaway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“James Bond, are you inviting me </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> on a first date?” Q waggled his eyebrows suggestively. When James laughed, his expression changed into a soft smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James put on his best smoulder:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I seem to recall an interesting position back there. Maybe we could recreate it somewhere soft instead of on a hard floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really? Tell me what you had in mind.”</span>
</p>
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